The Batman Robs a Bank

# Chapter 50: The Bank-Robbing Batman (3k3)

"Actually, Mom, Dad... you don't need to worry about me."

Having gained a new ability, David decided not to hide his uniqueness from them any longer.

Though he couldn't reveal his Eternal mutant physique—lest his strange appearance worry his parents—he could show off his Energy Manipulation ability.

"What do you mean?"

Seeing their son about to say something, the couple exchanged puzzled glances.

Hum!

A hint of amusement flickered in his eyes. David raised his hand, a highly condensed purple energy orb coalescing without releasing.

"I have some special abilities too. Self-defense isn't a problem."

The purple light illuminated the room.

"Son, this... what is this?"

Staring at the glow emanating from their youngest's hand, like a small purple sun, Jonathan and Martha gasped in shock.

Clark's eyes went wide. He couldn't believe what he was seeing.

This wasn't how he'd imagined his brother revealing his abilities.

In the living room, a pin could be heard dropping.

They let their stunned, bewildered parents digest the sudden news first.

"Energy Manipulation?"

David went upstairs to prepare before leaving. Clark followed, asking in disbelief, "You actually hid part of your ability from me?"

He'd always shared every ability he had with David. His brother's secrecy felt like a slight, and it stung a little.

"It's an ability I awakened recently."

In his room, David dragged a box out from under the bed, effortlessly lifting the hundred-pound crate onto the desk.

The box was about the size of a baby's cradle.

"Really?"

"Believe it or not."

"You..."

Seeing that David didn't seem to be lying, Clark's mood eased slightly. He was about to ask when his brother had gotten this ability.

Click!

David opened the box.

Pieces of green-glowing meteorite, large and small, lay quietly in the wooden crate. A rough count put them at seventy or eighty pieces.

"This... these are meteorites?!"

Clark was stunned mid-sentence. "How do you have so many meteorites?"

If he hadn't lost his powers, he might have collapsed on the floor right as the box opened.

"You..."

He stared wide-eyed at his brother.

"What are you collecting all these meteorites for?"

"Collecting."

David raised an eyebrow. "Is that a problem?"

Looking at his unflappable brother, Clark was so angry he could faint.

"Do you really expect me to believe that?"

He couldn't believe that just days after he'd exposed the weakness of meteorites, his brother had already collected a whole box of them.

Stacked together, they'd be enough to make an urn for his ashes.

In truth, this was David's old stash, dug up years ago. He'd stopped searching once he felt he had enough.

Hum!

David took out a slightly larger meteorite.

Energy beams shot from his eyes, the controlled rays cutting like lasers.

With precise manipulation, the hard meteorite's outer layers were sliced off like a hot knife through butter.

"You can shoot energy beams from your eyes?"

Clark was astonished, watching his brother's actions with confusion. "What are you doing?"

"Carrying around a rock is too stupid."

He finished making the thing quickly as he spoke.

"And the radiation from the raw meteorite isn't strong enough."

Brushing away stone dust like green snow, the light faded from David's eyes.

In his palm lay a ring cut from the innermost crystal of the meteorite, flawless as a green gem, radiating powerful energy. Even in daylight, a faint glow was visible.

Clark stared at the emerald ring, his face turning green as if poisoned, and he instinctively stepped back.

Even though he no longer felt weak or pained, the psychological shadow lingered.

"David, once you bring Avery back, you'll destroy it, right?"

He put the case back in its place.

Facing Clark's probing, David slipped the Kryptonite ring onto his right index finger, smiled, and said nothing.

"You'll destroy it... right?" An overwhelming sense of dread made Clark swallow hard, his voice drained of all confidence.

Clark wanted to go with his brother, but Jonathan and Martha wouldn't allow it. Without his powers now, he was better off staying home and not causing trouble for his brother.

Going downstairs, David was about to leave.

He didn't need to pack anything—one Kryptonite ring was enough.

"Son, are you sure you can bring Avery back without getting hurt?"

At the doorway, Jonathan and Martha still wore shock and surprise on their faces. Seeing David about to leave, they couldn't help worrying.

Their son was heading to another city, possibly facing danger—how could parents not be concerned?

"There won't be any problems."

David let out a breath and smiled.

After revealing his ability, he felt much lighter.

"My Energy Manipulation is best at defense. Clark's attacks can't break through it."

"Really?"

Jonathan and Martha looked at Clark.

"Yeah."

Clark nodded reluctantly.

He'd never actually tested it, but now wasn't the time to worry their parents.

"David, be careful."

Clark stepped forward, worry on his face, and hugged David tightly.

He clenched his fists secretly. Logically, this was his fault, and David shouldn't have to handle it—a pang of guilt hit him.

"Son..."

David hugged his parents too, then turned and left, waving a hand.

"Gotham isn't far. I'll be back in a few days."

Jonathan held his wife Martha in his arms, watching their son's retreating figure, concern hidden in his eyes.

"May God bless our David and bring him home safely."

Without looking back, David knew their expressions. He felt a little helpless.

Before he revealed his ability, they worried about his safety; after revealing it, they still couldn't let go.

He left an afterimage in place and sped away.

Gotham wasn't far from Metropolis—just a stretch of water apart.

The two cities, facing each other across the sea, shared close cultural and economic exchanges.

Like Metropolis, Gotham was a bustling, advanced modern city, with skyscrapers towering everywhere. It even had a high-rail tram system—something Metropolis lacked—running like blood vessels through the city, delivering nourishment to its heart: Wayne Tower.

But unlike Metropolis, Gotham's surface glamour hid filth and corruption. Its persistently high crime rate was an indelible label.

Drip!

Lead-gray clouds locked the sky, and cold raindrops wept down. Birds with soaked feathers, unable to fly, perched on the heads of gargoyle statues jutting from high walls, preening themselves.

A bird's head trembled as it peered down. In its pupils, a black umbrella slowly crossed the street.

Clang! Clang!

"Gotham feels like a place with endless clouds and never-ending rain."

Watching the long tram rattle noisily along the concrete-raised tracks, David, wearing a gray trench coat, lifted the corner of his umbrella, glanced at the gloomy sky, and sighed softly.

That was his impression of Gotham.

At least on his previous visits to Gotham, he'd never caught a sunny day either.

"How could a place so dark and damp not breed mold and grime?"

In a shadowy alley not far off, a pale-faced man sniffled and shivered as he pulled out a roll of cash, glancing around furtively like a thief, urging someone to hurry up and finish the deal, with a few more people queued behind him.

Pressed against the alley wall, a homeless old vagrant with a scraggly beard curled his withered body, his eyes reflecting the dull gray sky, lying numb on the cold ground.

A few young thugs in ragged clothes huddled around a trash can with a fire burning inside, stretching out hands in torn gloves to warm themselves, shivering and trembling.

When they noticed someone looking their way, they shot him a vicious glare, like mangy stray dogs guarding their turf.

This was the busiest downtown area of Gotham.

David shook his head, climbed the steps, folded his umbrella, and walked into the Gotham National Bank, its ancient exterior like a castle.

"Without the Son of Krypton's super vision or super hearing, finding one person in a city of tens of millions isn't simple."

First, he needed some money.

Outside, it looked like old brickwork steeped in history, but inside the bank was spacious and clean, with thick marble pillars, plush brown sofas, and bright display windows.

The decor was classic and elegant, yet didn't lack a modern, human touch.

"Old things can take on a new look."

The lobby manager in his suit and tie was chatting animatedly with some customers holding free coffee.

"Remember that old coffee machine that never filtered out the grounds? Customers always had grit on their teeth—complaints never stopped."

"Look at our Gotham National Bank now: fresh environment, modern equipment, high-tech security systems. We promise to provide better service and keep your wealth safer."

Walking across the gleaming marble floor, ignoring the lobby manager who spread his arms with a proud smile, David slowly approached the counter, ready to handle his business.

"I believe—who wouldn't love the Gotham National Bank today?"

"Don't be so sure, sir!"

A sudden loud voice cut in. A group of robbers in suits, carrying submachine guns and black bags over their shoulders, wearing red hoods, burst in. The leader sneered, pointing his gun at the manager.

"I prefer the bank from sixty years ago. Back then, the vault doors weren't so thick you couldn't blow them open with a tank!"

Ahhh... Bang!

A piercing scream erupted inside the bank. Before the terrified people could scatter like birds, a gunshot blew the manager's head off, his expression frozen in shock.

"Sticking to the old ways—doesn't hurt anyone."

The body fell. The man smiled elegantly, pressed a finger to his lips, and his softly spoken words swept through the hall like a winter wind, making everyone tremble.

"For example, you should all get down on the floor right now, quiet as mice in a church beam, or we'll use you to decorate the walls!"

Robbery of a national bank in broad daylight—a crime of sheer audacity.

Less than an hour in Gotham, and he was about to taste the city's flavor again.

David glanced around.

"Is this city so eager to remind me of its impression?"

Each wore a red hood, a black suit, and even a red rose pinned to their chest—dignified and elegant, as if here for a banquet, not a bank heist.

So much style. Though, to be fair, Gotham never lacked stylish criminals.

"Oh, there's one kid who didn't follow orders. Can't understand plain talk?"

The hall's people lay trembling on the floor, but one man still stood, looking around with a calm, almost curious expression, as if he didn't see a bank robbery where lives could end at any moment—conspicuously out of place.

Spotting David, the robber leader waved his hand with a smile, like sending a servant to fetch him a glass of champagne.

"Red Hood Five, teach this disobedient gentleman a lesson he won't forget."

From the robbers behind him, a small-time thug stepped out, charging fiercely up to David, swiftly aiming his gun at his head, his voice low and menacing.

"Kneel! I said kneel!"

With that, he kicked hard at David's knee, but it felt like hitting a steel pillar—no give at all!

A dull pain shot through his foot. Under the hood, Red Hood Five frowned, a flicker of surprise in his eyes.

"I'd heard Gotham's citizens had it rough."

Raising an eyebrow at the unremarkable Red Hood Five before him, David chuckled lightly.

"But I didn't expect—Bruce Wayne, owner of Wayne Enterprises, to stoop to robbing banks?"

A bit late with the update, but the two chapters together added over eighteen hundred words. Please keep reading. (ω)